


Treatment

by izzygone



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Magical Powers, Anal Sex, Dark, Dark Magic, Dark!Merlin, Dubious Consent, Gags, M/M, Restraints, Somnophilia, ill!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2280780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzygone/pseuds/izzygone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shhh, you don’t have to fight me. Relax, just relax,” Merlin stroked Arthur’s back, like he was petting him, “I’m only doing it this way for you, you know; I’m doing it this way so you have an excuse not to fight.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treatment

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for my September 2014 prompt-a-thon for the prompt: **_Can I get another extreme dub-con with Merthur?_**
> 
> To my dear beta, [Dragonzombie333](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonzombie333), ily!! Thank you, as always, for sharing in my kinks ;)
> 
> **IMPORTANT WARNINGS: Anon wanted extreme dub con and anon shall have it! The consent here is, at best, dubious; at worst, non-existent! There's also _very_ brief mentions of suicidal thoughts**

Arthur was going to die. He was certain of it. Five days he’d been laid up in bed with this illness without any sign of improvement. In fact, it seemed as if he was only getting _worse_ , no matter what Merlin told him.

Thank god for Merlin, really. With Gaius away treating sweating sickness in the land to the West, Arthur relied totally upon his manservant. Thank god Merlin had the foresight to train in medicine.  
  
Still, even with Merlin attentions he felt weaker and weaker. He was going to die sick and alone. Well, alone except for Merlin.  
  
“Sire, you must drink this.” Arthur could barely see his manservant hovering just outside his vision, though perhaps only a foot or so away. He felt it, whatever brew Merlin had concocted to save him, hot against his lips. He moved to bat the hand away. No more drinks, no more brews, no more elixirs. Couldn’t a man die in peace? But Merlin was insistent, and, quite frankly, a bit stronger than Arthur at this point. He pressed the cup back against Arthur’s lips and he finally parted them, defeated. Merlin took advantaged and flooded Arthur’s mouth with the hot, sticky liquid. For a moment, Arthur thought he might _choke_ on it. What a way for a king to go, choking on the medicine meant to cure him.  
  
After a moment, he managed to knock Merlin’s hand and the chalice away. He tried to cough but found his lungs and abdominal muscles too weak, “Why must you torture me so, Merlin? What even is that? Keep it away from me.” He covered his face with his arms, blocking Merlin and his vile brews out.  
  
Merlin’s laughter sounded good in Arthur’s ears, though he’d never admit it, “It’s flirtwort, sire, to clear your mind.”  
  
Arthur had no reason, really, to doubt him, though it tasted nothing like the flirtwort tea he’d drank to soothe his migraines as a child. “I’d rather die of fever than drink that foul mix again.” He wanted to turn away, block Merlin out and get some rest, but he lacked the strength even to twist onto his side. Instead he groaned, wishing to end his own suffering but for that, too, he lacked strength.  
  
*  
  
Despite his illness, Arthur’s dreams were generally pleasant and warm, filled with light and pleasing touches as if another had come to bed with him. He felt pliant and soft, and though he often wished to roll into the caresses, press himself closer to the source of the touching, even in his dreams he was too weak. He had no choice but to let the invisible hands roam where they willed, prodding him, stroking him, pinning him down. He could neither fight or embrace the sensations but was instead totally at the mercy of a being he could not even see.  
  
It felt familiar, though, strong and unyielding. Neither sinister nor benevolent just… intimate. Like it wanted to know Arthur inside and out.  
  
*  
  
How many days had it been? Who was ruling Camelot in his absence? He vaguely remembered instructing Leon… but that felt a hundred years ago now. How long had he been in this bed? Merlin was there again with his fucking teas and his determination to get Arthur to roll over frequently to avoid bed sores. Didn’t Merlin remember he just barely rolled over? It couldn’t have been that long ago. And didn’t Merlin know how much he hated lying on his stomach, defenseless? Who was going to stop someone from knifing him in his sleep? Certainly, he could hardly defend himself face up but at least he’d see the knife coming.  
  
Though honestly, which was worse?  
  
Arthur hated Merlin. He shouldn’t, he knew this wasn’t Merlin’s fault. That Merlin was just doing his best, but he still fucking hated him. Merlin with his fucking strong hands and fucking weird-tasting flirtwort and his fucking feet and his fucking ability to walk away, walk right out of this room while Arthur flailed on his stomach and tried to breathe.  
  
*  
  
Arthur couldn’t sleep on his stomach. He’d told Merlin as much many times, but Merlin had insisted. Had to avoid ulcers, Merlin had said. And now Arthur was awake, still, staring at a blank wall, wondering if it was really night or if the heavy drapes of his windows had just been closed. He lacked the strength even to turn his head to check, so fuck Merlin very much, thanks. He groaned, loudly and grumpily.  
  
If he’d had the energy, he’d probably have jumped as he felt a hand on his back. Hard and real, not soft and teasing as his dreams but familiar just the same.  
  
“Merlin?” He whispered, wishing he could turn and face whoever it was now touching him.  
  
“Shhhh, sire, you’re supposed to be sleeping.”  
  
He opened his mouth to reply, something along the lines of _I told you I couldn’t like this_ on his lips, but the hand on his back was moving, trailing down his spine, feeling each protrusion of his vertebrae, reminding him just how naked he was underneath the red duvet.  
  
“Merllin? What are you --”  
  
“ _Shhhh_ , go to sleep.”  
  
And Arthur _did_ feel tired, more so now than before. He couldn’t sleep lying face down, though, and he wanted to tell Merlin as much, but he couldn’t find his voice. Not as if he couldn’t find the words but rather as if it wasn’t even _there_. As if he’d lost his voice entirely. He struggled to move his hands, to push himself up. He needed to turn, he needed to see Merlin, he needed to _stop this_.  
  
But he couldn’t speak and he couldn’t move -- he was too weak to fight as Merlin’s fingers trailed back up and then once again slowly back down. “God, you’re so thin, sire.”  
  
Arthur couldn’t reply.  
  
“You used to be all muscle and soft, meaty flesh. You’re just hard bones now.” Arthur would have shuddered if he wasn’t frozen solid pressed into the mattress, “You’ve got to eat more. I’ve been trying to feed you, but you just won’t eat. I never meant for it to go on this long...” Suddenly, Arthur felt cold and he knew Merlin had removed the duvet, “You’re still beautiful, though, even weak like you are now. More beautiful, maybe.” He was touching Arthur again, fingers running down Arthur’s sides in a way that might have caused him to laugh if he’d been the ticklish sort. “I’ve waited so long, you know… but you’ve always been strong, and you were so hard to break. I think I’ve done it now, though,” Arthur could feel Merlin’s fingers caressing down, down, lower on his back again until he felt Merlin cupping his arse, “Haven’t I? You can’t even move, can you?” He squeezed, digging his fingers into what little flesh remained there, “Go on, try, I want to see you.”  
  
Arthur couldn’t help himself. He mustered his strength. He needed to get out of here. He needed to order Merlin to _stop_. He pressed his palms down into the mattress. He tried to kick, buck, squirm, _anything_. But nothing happened. He couldn’t move, not an inch.  
  
Behind him, Merlin’s breaths seemed suddenly shallower and more frequent. God, this was doing something to him. Was he getting hot on Arthur’s helplessness? The question was answered immediately as Merlin shifted over him, rubbing his clothed body against Arthur’s naked one, pressing his hardened cock against Arthur’s thigh.  
  
Arthur grunted, desperate to speak, desperate to tell Merlin he didn’t need to do this. He didn’t need to force Arthur into anything. It was too late for that now, though.  
  
He felt Merlin’s mouth against his skin, and god, his manservant was _smiling_. “I’m impressed, Arthur, I really am. I’ve never heard anyone make a sound through that enchantment, not even a grunt.”  
  
Arthur grunted again, just to prove he could. Whatever magic this was, he told himself he could overcome it.  
  
Merlin laughed then soothed again, “ _Shhh_ , you don’t have to fight me. Relax, just relax,” He stroked Arthur’s back, like he was _petting_ him, “I’m only doing it this way for you, you know; I’m doing it this way so you have an excuse not to fight.”  
  
Arthur wanted to say that didn’t make any fucking sense. But it did, in its own way. That didn’t make it decent or right, but Merlin wasn’t wrong. This way, Arthur had no choice but to lie back and take it, like he never would if he were at full strength. Like he’d never allow himself.  
  
He couldn’t move himself, but he could feel Merlin pulling at him, rearranging him, spreading his legs to make room for Merlin’s body. He almost grunted again as he felt Merlin maneuver into the space he’d made between Arthur’s legs but decided to save his strength for later. Merlin may have had a point, but that didn’t mean Arthur was just going to lie there and take it.  
  
Oddly, Merlin seemed to recognize this because he gave Arthur’s wrist a firm squeeze and whispered, “It’s okay, I know,” before reaching back down, sliding his fingers into the cleft of Arthur’s arse, slipping back and forth in the space there for a long minute before angling lower and grazing over Arthur’s hole. If not for the spell or whatever was silencing him, Arthur _might_ have moaned. No way to tell for sure since Merlin spent no time at all on this part of him but instead let his hand creep further skimming against Arthur’s bollocks.  
  
Arthur’s cock was soft and dormant, tucked safely between his body and the mattress, but the tiny ministrations of Merlin’s fingers against his sack made short work of waking it up. Strange, it was the only part of his body seemingly capable of movement, traitorous beast that it was.  
  
Merlin hummed a little and grabbed at Arthur’s hips, mercifully lifting Arthur to provide room for his growing cock, though he made no move to touch it and instead continued to fondle Arthur’s bollocks until his cock was full and ready, then the hand on Arthur’s hip disappeared and he flattened back into the mattress, erect cock trapped again hot against his stomach, which may or may not have been even fucking worse than before.  
  
Arthur could feel Merlin’s leg against his own now, which was odd because he’d been sure Merlin had been fully clothed a minute ago? But now he felt just as naked as Arthur, just as exposed. Arthur didn’t bother trying to kick him off or backwards, though it did cross his mind. He was saving his strength, he decided, for a big and final act. He wasn’t going to waste precious energy on a battle he couldn’t win.  
  
Merlin’s fingers were back, hot and insistent at his hole. Arthur was already frozen or he’d probably have bucked right off the bed. Merlin’s fingers were slick and impossible and so fucking _real._ This was nothing and everything like his sickness-induced dreaming.  
  
Where did Merlin even get the oil? Arthur didn’t ask, couldn’t ask, just like he couldn’t ask about where Merlin’s clothes went or _how_ or _why are you doing this to me_?  
  
“Relax, _relax_ ,” Merlin leaned over, whispering softly in his ear, body pressed against him, skin against skin against so much fucking _skin_.  
  
Arthur closed his eyes. Merlin kept whispering, voice low, speaking words Arthur didn’t understand and had never heard. He wondered if maybe it was another enchantment, though for some reason, that didn’t seem to bother him. Nothing much was bothering him anymore, not even Merlin’s fingers, two of which were inside him now, sliding back and forth, alternating between filling him up and leaving him empty. He breathed in and out slowly with the rhythm of the fingers, feeling loose and lax again like this was a dream again afterall.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” Merlin was speaking again in words Arthur could understand, “Open up for me, love, I’ll fix you, make you feel so much better.”  
  
Arthur let out a little sigh; it wasn’t audible, but that didn’t really bother him. He opened his eyes again as he felt Merlin spread his legs further. He didn’t fight it, didn’t really feel the need to anymore. He felt Merlin tug again at his waist, trying to pull him up a bit off the bed. Arthur didn’t want to help, but he didn’t actively resist, either, just let Merlin work with his dead weight. He heard Merlin talking again in some language he didn’t understand and felt suddenly like he was being held up by two very strong hands. He didn’t mind it, really. He let the invisible hands do the work, his knees bent and touching the bed, but clearly not what kept him on all fours.  
  
He let his head hang down, touching the cool pillow with his forehead. Merlin had pulled his fingers out while manipulating Arthur’s body again, but he replaced them now. Three fingers instead of two, and Arthur had never felt so stretched, had never been so full, but he was very unconcerned about this fact. He felt sleepy, flexible and incredibly wet.  
  
Merlin’s fingers were missing again, and Arthur felt a twinge of concern for what might come next, but it was gone in an instant as he felt Merlin’s firm hands petting again at his neck, “Just relax, I’ve got you.”  
  
Arthur believed him, though he wasn’t sure why.  
  
Even slack and loose as he felt, his calm was jarred a little by the feeling of Merlin’s cock, blunt and hot against Arthur’s slick entrance. Had he been capable of it, he might have panicked.  
  
As it was, he’d never felt so relaxed in his life, and his body demonstrated that by opening up around Merlin’s intrusion as if built for this.  
  
Merlin hissed, low and shakily as he pressed forward more and more into Arthur’s willing body. Seated, he stopped and pressed his forehead cool against Arthur’s bony back. “You’re so fucking good, gods, you’re fucking _perfect_.” Merlin was cooing, not moving, as if Arthur’s arse had cast a spell on him, too.  
  
In his relaxation, Arthur’s erection had flagged. He didn’t mind the press of Merlin’s skin to his or the intense fullness of Merlin’s cock in his arse, but it wasn’t wholly pleasant. It was easy, and he might have stayed in that position all night -- or at least until this feeling of soft contentment wore off -- if Merlin hadn’t managed to gather himself enough to start moving.  
  
It was Arthur’s turn to hiss as Merlin’s cock rubbed him, filled him, left him empty.  
  
Merlin kissed his back soothingly, pressing hot suction at the base of his neck, along each of his upper vertebrae. Arthur arched his back into it, surprised both by his ability to move of his own accord and the dizziness and confusion that accompanied a sudden flow of blood back into his cock.  
  
He didn’t feel so relaxed anymore.  
  
He was hot, and he could feel sweat running off his forehead and into the pillow. He arched back into Merlin who wrapped his arms around Arthur’s middle. Merlin wasn’t exactly fucking him anymore so much as he was _grinding_ , angling his cock just so, rubbing a spot in Arthur he’d never known existed.  
  
Arthur moaned, loud and throatily. His voice was back along with his mobility. Merlin’s magic was beginning to loosen and fade, though it had not yet completely dissipated.  
  
Still, his head felt clearer than it had in _weeks_ , and he was afraid to stop moving, to stop letting Merlin fuck him, in case the fuzziness and fever returned.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he pressed back, meeting each one of Merlin’s grinding thrusts, “Harder, come on Merlin.”  
  
Merlin moaned, “Arthur, _fuck_ , what you do to me.”  
  
Arthur didn’t reply, just reached back, digging his fingers into Merlin’s hip, forcing him in harder, deeper. Involuntarily, he felt his hole flex around Merlin’s cock, and Merlin all but shouted with sudden pleasure. Encouraged, Arthur repeated the motion, squeezing around the solid hot cock inside him.  
  
“Touch me, Merlin, _please_.”  
  
Like a good manservant, Merlin did as he was told, sliding his hand down to tug at Arthur’s straining cock. It wasn’t going to take longer than a minute, his body was so confused and high on pleasure, Merlin’s hand was like lightning on his body. He quivered, swallowed a choked-off moan and arched, coming blindingly hard in Merlin’s hand.  
  
He could feel Merlin, too, overwhelmed by the sensations and flooding Arthur with his orgasm.  
  
Whatever invisible hands had been holding him up were long gone now, and Arthur was completely free to move himself again. Tentatively, he stretched and turned, Merlin going slack and slipping off his back. He felt cold and ravenously hungry but miraculously clear-headed.  
  
Merlin groaned behind him, his eyes fluttering open and close. “‘m sorry.” He whispered, snaking a hand out to touch Arthur’s sweat-and-come soaked skin.  
  
Arthur nodded, reaching over to pat his manservant gently. “It’s okay, Merlin, it’s okay.”  
  
*  
  
When Merlin woke, it was morning, 11 days after Arthur came down with the mysterious illness, and he was in Arthur’s bed, alone. He felt something -- a cup -- pressed against his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he did, liquid from the cup spilled over and in, forcing him to swallow or choke. He cough, sputtered, and groaned at the revolting taste.  
  
“Wha-whatt? What’s going on, what is this?” He made a motion with his hands, trying to push the cup away.  
  
Strong hands held him and the cup in place, though. And the prince -- his voice was all Merlin heard, “It’s _flirtwort tea_ , Merlin, drink up.”

**Author's Note:**

> _A very brief explanatory footnote: Flirtwort (commonly known as feverfew) is an herb used to treat migraines, dizziness, fevers, allergies and a bunch of other things, but none of that is really important to know for the story._


End file.
